


Escape the Infection

by Shoulder_Devil



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bickering, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Zombie, canon-typical worms, escape room, tmabigbang2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoulder_Devil/pseuds/Shoulder_Devil
Summary: Elias sends the Archive staff to an escape room for some much needed team building but the actor in the zombie themed room seems a little too into things. When they start coughing up small, silver worms everything goes to hell. Can Team Archives set aside their differences and work together for long enough to find the clues, solve the puzzles, and escape or will they be turned into flesh hives by the Filth?Written for the TMA Big Bang 2018





	Escape the Infection

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place mid season 3 after Jon gets back to the Institute but before he gets kidnapped.

Jon heard Melanie’s voice rising in anger and immediately knew he was in the right place. He followed the sound down the stairs into the lower level of the nondescript office building. Exiting the stairwell, Jon was met by the rest of the Archival staff, none of whom looked like they wanted to be there. Tim leaned sullenly against the wall, Basira browsed a pamphlet advertising an axe throwing bar of some kind, and Martin followed behind as Melanie paced the lobby like an irritated cat trying desperately to calm her down.

It wasn’t working.

“An escape room?” Melanie burst out. “Really!?

“He said he wanted us to do some team building after--” Martin tried.

“But an _escape_ room? It’s not like we’re trapped enough at the Institute! He wants to literally lock us in a room now?”

“I don’t thin--”

“Jon,” Melanie spotted him when he entered the room and stormed over, “did you know about this?”

“I, uh, no,” Jon responded taking a step back from Melanie’s onslaught. “No, I didn’t. Elias gave me a time and an address and told me to meet you all here.”

“And you didn’t know what it was all about?”

“No? He didn’t say.”

“Elias gives you cryptic instructions to meet us in some shady building with no justification and you came anyway!?” Melanie’s voice rose higher with disbelief as she laid into Jon. “You didn’t even question it?”

“Of course, I questioned it!” Jon said, his own anger rising to match hers.

Martin stepped forward doing his best to diffuse the situation. “Okay, I think we all need to calm down here.”

“No, Martin. I want to hear what Elias told Jon when he ‘questioned his orders’.” She made air quotes then let her hands fall to her sides with a slap. Melanie gave the Archivist an expectant look as he chewed over her words. “Well?”

“I…” Jon started, “he hung up when I started to ask.”

Tim huffed a bitter laugh from his place along the wall causing Basira to shoot him a look from above her pamphlet. He shook his head and rolled his eyes in response.

“And you still came?”

Jon looked down at himself then back to Melanie. “Clearly I did.”

She flung her arm to indicate the others as glared at Jon. “Did you call any of them to verify we would be here too, or did you just take it on faith that Elias wouldn’t send you into some kind of trap? He did just admit to killing two people.”

“Look, Melanie, we’re all here. Let’s just get this over with and move on with our lives.”

“What about Daisy?” Martin ventured, clearly afraid of the answer.

Basira set down the flyer. “Not coming. She’s not officially Institute staff or at least not Archival staff.” Martin visibly relaxed at the news. “I let her know we’re here though, just in case.”

“S-So I guess that’s everyone then. Unless Elias…” Martin trailed off.

“Christ, I hope not,” Tim muttered, making no effort to hide his disdain for the man.

“HELLO!” A tall, cheery woman in a lab coat carrying a clipboard burst into the room in a buzz of energy startling everyone but Basira. “I am Professor Gadost! You are here for team building, yes?”

She spoke with a vaguely eastern European accent, possibly Russian, likely fake. Still, even the possibility of a real Russian accent pared with Elias sending them here put Jon on edge. Nothing seemed particularly off about the “professor” so far save from an overabundance of energy. No odd smells, no trace of glass eyes, nothing to indicate this person as one of Nikola’s minions or some other agent of the Stranger.

“I guess we are,” Jon replied after regaining his footing. Melanie crossed her arms pointedly refusing to look at him.

“Good, good! You are the group from the Magnus Institute then? I count one, two, three, four, and five. Perfect! You are all here, we have waivers signed, does anyone need to use facilities? If not we can begin!” The professor sped through the introductions not giving enough time for any of her questions to be answered.

“Hang on,” Melanie seized on the brief pause, “what do you mean you have the waivers signed?”

“Hm?” She looked confused for a moment before catching on. “Oh, yes. A mister,” she paused to check her clipboard, “Bouchard sent over the form when he set up your appointment. Very efficient of him, saves us time on this end of things.”

“Could I… see it? The waiver, I mean.”

“I suppose, I would have to go through my files, it would take some time though and we really should get started.”

“Melanie,” Tim said in a low voice, “do you really want to have to _actually_ sign a waver? Let it go and let’s get this over with.”

“Fine.” She spat. Looking to the professor, “Don’t worry about it, let’s just go.”

“Excellent!” she said brightly. “Everyone follow me!”

The professor led the group into a waiting room lined with couches and a low table. One wall was covered floor to ceiling in adhesive name tags. Jon could pick out names like “Bait”, “Meatball”, and “Rick Grimes” stuck over an abundance of more traditional names. The professor pulled a stack of labels from a drawer and placed them along with several colored markers on the table.

“So! I need everyone to fill out name tag.”

Martin reached for the purple sharpie in front of him and started fiddling with the cap.

“Do not use your real name! That is boring, do not be boring. Be someone else, whoever you want to be. Whatever you put down is what I will call you. If you want to be ‘Captain Butts’ can be ‘Captain Butts’ and I will call you ‘Captain Butts’. You will not be my first. Or my second.” She gestured to the wall of stuck on name tags. “If you need inspiration, feel free to look to the wall of fame.”

No one other than Martin made any move to fill out their name badge. “Come on guys,” he said, pulling the cap from his marker, “this could be fun.”

“Yeah, fun. Sure.” Tim deadpanned. He heaved himself from where he had sunk into the couch and reached across for a name tag.

Melanie glowered at first but relented, selecting a dark blue marker and writing ‘Your Real Name’ across the blank space. When he saw her affix the tag to her shirt, Jon shook his head and sighed through his nose. She cocked her head slightly, all but daring him to comment further. For a moment he looked like he was going to accept her challenge before turning away to examine the wall of stickers.

“‘Your… Real… Name’,” The professor made a show of writing Melanie’s name on the clipboard. “Ahhh, I see what you did there! Thinking outside of box. You think you are the clever one! I like you, hope you live!”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare suspiciously at the professor. She noticed the shift in the room and made a show of nervous laughter before powering through with a loud, but friendly voice. “So quiet all of a sudden! Was it something I said?” Professor Gadost looked from face to face, waiting.

Basira broke the silence. “You hope she lives?”

“Yes! She amuses me.”

“As opposed to her dying?”

“I hope you all live, actually. Burying bodies in basement is such hassle,” she said brightly. “Even if we are already in basement.”

“And why would you be burying bodies in the basement?” Tim ventured.

“What else do you do with bodies? I can’t just leave them lying around. Imagine the smell! Horrible!” she laughed, her accent emphasizing a guttural h in the word.

Martin’s brows furrowed in thought. “Wait, is there some kind of theme of the room we’re doing?”

“Oh, did Mr. Bouchard not tell you?”

“Elias doesn’t tell us a lot of things.” Melanie said dryly.

A smile spread across the professor’s face. “If that is the case, I’m not sure if I want to ruin surprise.”

Jon had just about enough of all of this. “Just what is the room we are about to do, Ms. Gadost?” he Asked.

“Zombies,” she responded immediately dropping into a south London accent. She blinked in confusion for a moment. “It is zombie themed room. ‘Escape the Infection’ it is called,” she finished recovering her faux Russian accented broken English.  

“Zombies,” Martin perked up, “that could be fun, right?” None of the other assistants looked any more excited before finding out the theme.

Tim peeled the backing off the name tag and slapped ‘Dead Inside’ on his chest. “If you say so, Martin.”

Jon stepped closer to examine the wall of fame. Here and there he noticed streaks of red or black blemishing the white surfaces. Several of the stickers had been crumpled or torn, presumably in the process of escaping the room they were about to enter.

“Don’t Open.” The professor’s voice pulled Jon’s attention away from the wall to see her taking notes on her clipboard.

“I’m sorry, what shouldn’t I open?”

“Hm? Oh!” She gestured excitedly to Basira’s name tag, ‘DON’T OPEN’ scrawled in heavy letters. “So far we have Don’t Open - I’m sorry, you wrote that in all capitals-- DON’T OPEN!” she shouted, “Dead Inside, and Your Real Name. We still need names for the two of you!”

Basira went over to stand next to Tim, adjusting her name tag so it was the same height as his. Despite himself, Tim cracked a smile when he saw her name tag referenced an early Walking Dead episode. “If we had planned it better we could have been Don’t Dead and Open Inside.”

She smiled, pleased to see him make a joke. “We’ll just have to save that for some other time.”  

“If Elias sends us out for more ‘team building’ then maybe. Though I think I’d rather be eaten to death by worms if it’s all the same to you.”

“It won’t be as bad as all that.” Basira looked over to Martin fussing over his name tag. “Who are you going to be, Martin?”

“I don’t know. I’m not very good at names, I haven’t even settled on a pen name yet and I’ve been working on that for a while.”

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“Pen name.”

“I don’t-- What?” Martin was getting very lost.

“Use pen name.”

“I still don’t--”

“Sharpie, Martin,” Melanie piped in with a sigh. “She said use a ‘pen name’, you’re holding a Sharpie.”

“Ohhhhh.”

“Actually I was suggesting ‘Pen Name’ but I like your logic better.”

Martin filled out his name badge and professor Gatost made her note. “That just leaves you!” She turned on Jon. “If you don’t hurry, then your friends might just pick a name for you.

Tim scoffed. “I’m _not_ his friend but I do have a few names for him.”

“Same here,” Melanie muttered.

“See?” the professor said, tapping her pen on the clipboard, “you had better hurry!”

Jon’s eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights under the attention. A lopsided smirk twitching his face, Tim grabbed a marker and scribbled something. He peeled the back from the sticker, and slapped it roughly to Jon’s chest, knocking him back a step. The professor barked a laugh noted Jon’s name.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use real names,” Melanie objected

Jon looked down to see ‘Walking Disaster’ written in purple ink affixed to his chest. “Ha ha.” He said dryly.

“He’s not that far off.” Basira added.

“You too now?” Jon shot her a wounded look. “Fine, whatever, at least now we can get started.” He turned to their host, “unless there is anything else?”

“One last thing! Please put your cell phones, other electronics, and purses in the provided lockers. You will not be needing them. And it would be a shame for something to fall out of your pocket and get trampled while you are running from zombie. Once that is done, we can begin!”

Tim cocked his head in Jon’s direction. “That means the tape recorder I know you’ve got stashed on you somewhere, Jon.”

“You mean, Walking Disaster,” Melanie chimed in.

Jon’s eye twitched slightly as he gritted his teeth and dug out a pocket sized recorder to place in the locker.

“Oh!” the professor exclaimed. “Walking Disaster is a master of 1980's technology! I like it.”

Jon chose not to comment as Professor Gadost led them down a short hallway to stand in front of a red streaked, wooden door. She turned around to face them just as a loud banging came from the other side of the wall. Startled, Martin jumped with a little squeak.

“Hello, doctor! I have brought some lovely people for you to eat-- meet! I mean meet!” More banging followed by the sound of a rattling chain and a loud groan. “Yes, yes, soon! Do not worry! Patience, doctor patience!” She turned back to face them with a wide eyed grin.

“SO! We have a few rules I must go over and they I lock you in room with zombie! Okay!” She paused, repeating herself when she got no response, “ _okay?”_ The Archival staff mumbled a chorus of unenthusiastic okays. The professor smiled and plowed on into her spiel: no electronics, no climbing, don’t break things, items tagged with a red sticker aren’t part of the game, if the zombie tags you you are out, don’t give up-- She went over the rules in rapid fire accented speech, peppered with jokes. Martin and Basira may have cracked an occasional smile, but none of them laughed.

Jon thought that any other group would have been laughing and having a great time. He actually felt a bit bad for the actor, it was clear that none of them wanted to be here. It couldn’t have been easy to maintain the energy of her character with such a subdued audience. Despite their lack of interest she was soldiering on with the bright, upbeat vigor of a puppy meeting a new friend.

“Now, I don’t do this for everyone, but I have a few tips to give you.” She stage whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially to Jon. “Work together as a team, that means you need to talk to each other!” She pulled back to address the group as a whole. “If you see something, say something! If you _solve_ something, say something! If you do not know what is going on, Walking Disaster? Say something!”

Melanie cracked a smile and Tim actually let out a genuine laugh at that.

“Communication is not just talk, talk, talk, talk! It is also listen! So if Your Real Name has question, Sharpie might be able to help. But only if you _talk to each other_.”

“That seems unlikely,” Melanie scoffed.

Martin’s face fell and he began to fidget with the cuff of his shirtsleeves.

“Hey, that’s not what she meant.” Basira said fixing Melanie with a look, “it’s just that no one actually talks to each other down there. Right, Mel- Your Real Name?”

“R-Right.” Melanie agreed. She at least had the decency to look sheepish for the casual insult.

“See!” Professor Gadost interjected, breaking the growing tension, “this is why you need the team building!” She gestured frantically back and forth between them. “This! This right here.”

“One last tip! Zombies, they are easily distracted, I don’t know why you would want to try and call zombie to you to keep him away from someone working on clue. That seems strange to me, but! I do not judge. So maybe try a little bit of song, little bit of dance, I don’t know. Keep in mind the undead have short attention span so if it stops working, try something else! Have someone else step in!

“Now! While working on cure for parasite infection, lab accident infected the doctor with the very parasite he was working on! In his last moments of awareness, he set up the room behind me with clues and riddles to solve if he ever came back to himself.

“I will be in the room with you. Not that I do not trust you, but-- I do not trust you. Especially you, Dead Inside, you have that look.” She narrowed her eyes in false suspicion and waggled a finger at Tim. He rolled his eyes in response.

The professor produced a surgical face mask from her lab coat pocket. “I will be wearing mask and will not be speaking to avoid catching airborne version of zombie infection.”

“I thought you said it was a parasite.” Melanie interrupted.

“You are here to solve riddles, not attack the premise of my room!” she joked. “Do I come to your work and poke holes in your job? Huh? Pay attention, Your Name Here. Besides, airborne parasites exist.

“Anyway, the doctor has been chained to back of wall but every five minutes a buzzer will sound - BRRRRAANNGG!! - and the chain is released at least a foot. By the end of forty-five minutes the chain will be fully extended. You must find the clues, solve the riddles, and get the key to escape or,” she paused for effect, “you will be eaten! Okay!? Good!

“I’m going to go in room, set timer, make sure chain is locked, and when I come back and say, ‘your time has begun,’ then your time has begun so enter quickly! Good luck everyone, you will need it!” she finished in a singsong voice before disappearing into the room.

Groans, rattling chains, and shouts of, “Get back!” could be heard from the other side of the door. Martin looked like he was almost excited to go in. Melanie and Tim both were both wearing bored stares pointed in Jon’s direction. Melanie went so far as to cross her arms and lean against the wall.

Jon shook his head and spread his arms. “What do you want me to do about it? It’s only forty-five minutes, less than an hour and we’re out of here.”

“As silly as this whole thing seems, you really do need it,” Basira said. “You don’t all have to be friends but you should at least be able to work together.”

“This doesn’t have to be a chore,” Martin ventured, “it could actually be fun. And it got us out of the Archives for the afternoon."

Jon looked like he was about to say something when the door burst open and professor Gadost yelled, “Your time has begun!” She motioned for them to hurry into the room. Melanie let her head fall back and heaved a sigh but pushed herself from the wall and crossed into the room. Tim gave a shrug and followed.

“Quick, quick! Like bunnies and squirrels, your life is short and precious, do not waste it!” Jon and Martin broke into a sort of half jog with Basira trailing soon after.

There was no zombie in the room.

Well, the zombie was probably _somewhere_ in the room but he wasn’t visible among the various trappings of an office. As soon as everyone was in the professor slammed the door shut, hard. Martin squeaked again at the noise. She very deliberately closed the latch and fixed an almost comically large padlock on the door. Professor Gadost saw everyone looking at her. She raised her eyebrows and gestured to the timer on the wall, already ticking down from forty-five minutes.

The room was square, around twenty feet on each side with a small desk in the middle. The floor had been covered with soft interlocking mats, probably in case someone fell when running from the zombie. Ikea shelving lined most of the walls with a variety of books and knickknacks. Medical posters hung on the walls detailing brain structure and function. Along one one wall stood a large entertainment center. Sliding drawers lined the bottom of the unit with large paneled doors covering the space intended for a television.

Tim eyed the doors. With a voice dripping with sarcasm he commented, “Oh my, I wonder what ever could be in that suspiciously person sized cupboard.”

Basira quirked an eyebrow, “Care to find out?”

“No, I think I’m good. Martin? Do you want to investigate that particular mystery?”

Martin was busying himself with the desk, checking drawers. “I’m already investigating something.” One of the drawers was secured with a combination lock but the others opened easily enough. Inside one he found a folded lab coat and the other pen and paper.

“I found something to take notes with if anyone has anything they need written down.”

“I’ve found a battery.” Jon announced, “looks like a triple A.” No one said anything so he tucked it into his pocket.

“Hey,” Basira called. “There’s a decent sized locked box mounted on the side of this bookcase. It’s got, ‘who have you forgotten’ written just above a five letter combination lock.”

“The desk drawer is locked with a combination lock but there isn’t anything written on it.” Martin added.

Basira moved to browse the handful of books tucked away on a shelf. There wasn’t any clear pattern with titles or authors, they all seemed like set dressing bought from a charity shop and thrown onto the shelves. The white spine of an oversized paperback caught her eye, _John Dies at the End_ by David Wong. She pulled it from the shelf and the orange book sitting next to it fell on it’s side. _This Book is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It_ by the same author.

“Jon, have a look at this.” she handed him the book.

He took it with widening eyes. “I suppose I should be glad I don’t spell my name that way.” He flipped it over. “Severed arm, a bit gruesome if you ask me.” He scanned the back cover and read aloud, “‘You touched the book. You’re in the game. You’re under the eye.’ That’s… ah. Huh.”

Jon noticed Martin looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” His voice wasn’t steady enough to be believable.

“What book?” Melanie asked poking idly at a small, plastic microscope.

“John Dies at the End.”

Tim snorted a laugh, “I’ve seen that movie, wasn’t bad.”

Melanie turned to face him. “So does he?”

“Does he what?”

“Die at the end?”

“That would be spoiling things.”

The first five minutes were fairly uneventful as they spread out looking for clues. Martin focused on the desk, Basira on the books, Melanie busied herself with the bric-a-brac on the shelves, Jon paced the room trying to drink it all in, and Tim stood staring at a bookcase, not actually looking at anything in particular. Through it all, the professor made notes on her clipboard.

“Ten seconds,” Martin called.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and waited to see what would happen. The first five minute mark a buzzer sounded followed by a loud banging on a low cabinet drawer, not the main compartment in the entertainment center Tim called attention to earlier. It slid open to reveal a space hollowed out into the wall far deeper than the furniture implied. A drawn out groaning came from the recesses. Bandage wrapped hands caked with dark blood clawed their way from the hiding space dragging a man in torn dark green scrubs. His hair was limp and greasy and his graying skin was covered in blood and some kind of black ichor. A length of chain attached to the cuffs circling his wrists that disappeared somewhere behind him.

“That’s actually a pretty good makeup job.” Tim admitted, impressed.

The zombie opened his mouth and more black oozed down his chin. He groaned loudly as he pulled himself free of the cabinet. Cloudy eyes scanned the room and locked on Jon. The zombie burst forward with a speed that caused Jon to startle backward in surprise. The chain pulled taught and the zombie stopped well shy of the Archivist.

“Good Lord!” He looked to the professor. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

She nodded enthusiastically and made a note on her clipboard. Jon stared dumbly at her for a few moments until she swept her hand into the room to indicate that he should continue to look for clues and work on puzzles.

Martin squinted at the actor on the floor. “He even has contact lenses. That’s a nice touch.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, “maybe this might be fun after all.” The zombie forced out a wet, gravely laugh in response.

“What do we do about all of the things over there next to him?” Jon asked.

Tim raised a judgmental eyebrow. “Someone distracts the zombie and you go get it. Were you not paying attention to professor Gadost earlier?” She beamed at Tim and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Jon crossed his arms over his chest. “Well I’m not going over there to grab them.”

“I’ll do it,” Martin volunteered.

“Why don’t you wait until his chain gets longer so you can lure him farther away? He’s right on top of things over there.” Melanie suggested. “It gets longer again in five minutes so we might as well deal with the things currently in reach.”

“Oh, good point.”

“I bet you wish you had opened that suspiciously human sized door now.” Basira teased Tim.

“Pardon me for avoiding a perceived threat.”

“I hope we won’t need whatever is in there right away.”

“Well at last it seems to be interested in Jon the most out of all of us.”

“Is he now?” Jon took a few steps to the left and the zombie began dragging himself along the floor in the Archivist’s direction. “I suppose so.”

“Braaaaiiiiinnnnssss,” the zombie moaned. “FEEEEEEeeeeeeeddddddd.” A string of black drool dangled from his mouth to pool on the floor in front of him. He groaned again, low at first that shifted into a rattle by the time he was done. He rolled over on his back, eyes never leaving the Archivist, and proceeded to blow large bubbles with blackened saliva.

“There is plenty left to explore out of his reach,” Basira said. “We should gather the things close to him before the chain gets longer.”

Melanie nodded in agreement. She grabbed the microscope she’d been examining and a hard backed medical journal from the shelf in front of her. “Tim are you going to help at all?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Figured I’d just watch.” He looked pointedly at Jon. “That’s what we do isn’t it? Watch?”

Jon clenched his teeth to bite back the angry retort forming. He took a deep breath, in through his nose and let it out through his mouth, before speaking. “Tim,” he said, voice tight, “I know you don’t want to be here--

“Got that right.”

“Okay, fine,” Jon lost the battle with his own frustration. “You want to stand in the back and watch, well then you go ahead and do that! I can’t exactly force you to participate. But as your boss, I would _appreciate_ it if you pitched in some.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “since you asked so nicely, _boss_.” Tim slowly, but deliberately walked toward the zombie. Martin caught his arm and pulled him back just before he made a lunge at Tim’s legs.

“What are you doing!? He almost tagged you!”

“I was going after the stuff on the shelves above his little hidey-hole. Someone has to.”

“It can wait another,” Martin checked the clock, “two minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Fine.” Tim crouched down bringing himself closer to the actor’s level. “So how are you doing today?”

Cloudy eyes stared back at Tim. He opened his jet black mouth and let out a gurgling moan. “Braaaaiiinnsss.”

“I’m afraid we’re the wrong group of you’re after brains.”

He smacked his mouth open and closed and cocked his head at Tim more drool sliding down his chin. “Huunggry.” The zombie lunged at Tim but the chain kept him from getting more than a few centimeters closer.

“I’m sorry, man. You are objectively terrifying, hell your mouth is something like out of a Japanese horror movie. It’s just that I’ve seen some shit you wouldn’t believe in the last couple of years and this kind of stuff doesn’t get my heart pumping anymore.”

“Deeeaaaaddd Innsssiidde.”

“Exactly!”

“I might have something,” Melanie held out the medical journal she found. “There’s something written in the cover of this book but it’s incomplete. ‘Ot a star’ next line, ‘ere is a’, and below that are some spaces, a couple with boxes around them, and the word ‘scar’.”

“So we need to find the other half?” Martin asked.

Basira nodded “Start checking book covers.”

The whole time professor Gadost stood tucked between two bits of furniture along the wall. Her eyes followed them as they explored the room, stopping occasionally to note something on her clipboard. Jon couldn’t see what she wrote as when she wasn’t taking notes as she kept the clipboard hugged against her chest.

“Five seconds, you’d better move, Tim,” Martin warned.

“If you insist.” Tim stood and took several steps back.

The buzzer sounded again followed by a hollow sounding “thunk” from inside the cabinet. The zombie chuckled, low and raspy. He gathered his legs under him and crawled forward with alarming speed. Tim had to take an extra step back to avoid him.

“Well that was farther than I expected.”

The professor stopped taking notes for a moment to glance at the source of the chain. A look of confusion passed over her face for a moment. She caught Jon looking at her and she became her bright, cheerful self again.

“Keep him distracted, we might be able to get into that cabinet now.” Melanie called.

“You do realize he _can_ hear you? A distraction huh?” Tim leaned into Martin, “you could recite some of your poetry.”

Martin blushed a deep red and looked like he was trying to sink into the floor. “Th-tha-- I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s not a secret, Martin. I keep finding your tapes lying around. And you were talking about your pen name earlier.”

Martin looked at Melanie with wide eyes as his ears continued to flush. “You know what? I’ll go check in there. You’ll keep the zombie busy?”

“Sure, I seem to have hit it off with tall, dark, and spooky here.” The zombie groaned in response. “See, fast friends.”

Martin swallowed nervously and started to pick his way over to the cabinet as Tim crouched back down to chat with his new friend. Melanie wasn’t paying them any attention as she continued flipping through her book.

Jon watched Basira rummage around on a shelf for a bit. When she shifted some kind of nonsense to the side, he saw something pushed flush against the wall. It nearly fit the cubby hole perfectly only the slight texture of the fake leather cover gave it away. She didn’t notice it and moved on to another part of the shelf.

“I think I spotted the book you are looking for, Melanie-- sorry, I mean, Your Real Name,” he called over. “It’s hidden longways behind a bunch of other books.”

“Well then go get it! You finding something isn’t doing us any favors if you don’t do anything about it.”

“No need for the tone,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Maybe not, but it makes me feel better.” Melanie replied at full volume.

“I still am your boss, you know!”

“Haven’t been able to fire me yet.”

“That’s not the point!” Jon opened mouth to continue when he noticed professor Gadost glancing over and taking notes of the exchange. He took a deep breath and reigned himself in. “Fine, we’ll discuss it later.”

The singsong quality of Melanie’s “If you say so,” set Jon’s teeth on edge. He was just about to have it out with her, judgmental clipboard be damned when Martin’s voice rang out.

“Guys! Have a look at this!” Martin swung open the cabinet door to reveal some kind of pub game affixed there. There was a hole at the top for marbles or ball bearings and six slots lined the bottom of a Plexiglas case. Between them was a series of ledges in a kind of maze that could be adjusted with a knob. A metal ball rested at the end of the exit chute. He picked it up and pushed it into the hole at the top. It made a clanking noise as it fell through the obstacles to land in the far left slot, lighting it up. “I think we need to find more of those little ball thingies and this box should open up.”

“I saw a couple in the drawers.” Basira called over. She fished one out of the desk and tossed it over to Martin who fumbled it in his hand but caught it against his chest before it could fall to the ground.

“Thanks.” He repeated the process, cursing when it landed in the far left slot again. He plucked it from the return chute where the ball had been kicked out and tried again.

Tim was busy holding the attention of the zombie with idle chatter. He would say something and the zombie would groan in response sometimes offering up a word or two. “Tied to your job?” he indicated the chains, “I know how that feels.”

The actor pulled on his chains and made a show of trying to get closer to Tim. “At least,” he grunted, “bring fooood.” He jerked his head at the sound of Martin playing with the game behind him. “Noises!” The zombie let out a ragged cough and started moving in Martin’s direction.

“Martin,” Tim sounded bored, “the zombie is coming for you.”

“What?” He had managed to light up two slots and was working on a third when he heard Tim’s warning. “Oh, Christ.” Martin scrambled away, jumping at the last minute to avoiding getting tagged.

The zombie paused near the cabinet, breathing heavily for a moment. He shuddered then began to cough - loud and wet, like something was tearing free in his chest. The professor looked concerned and moved closer to check on him. She crouched down with her clipboard between her face and the rest of the group to whisper something. The zombie got himself under control and shook his head. There were more whispers, louder and more insistent.

“Leave me alone, I’m not finished here!” he growled.

Professor Gadost startled at the outburst and nearly fell. She stood up and shrugged. “Whatever you say, doctor.”

Everyone had stopped working on their clues to watch the exchange. It was Basira who spoke up first. “Are you sure he’s alright? That sounds pretty bad.”

The professor waved her question away and gestured for them to continue. The zombie stalked along the floor behind her. A thin string of black drool hung from his mouth, swaying as he moved his head. He took a deep breath and let loose another growl that might have been an attempt at some mangled word if he hadn’t started coughing again.

“I really don’t think he’s fine.” Melanie chimed in. “We should probably go before we all catch whatever it is that he’s got.”

 _“That’s the point!”_ the zombie shouted from the floor. “I’m... Contagious.”

“Um…” Jon started. “P-Perhaps everyone should back up over here now. You too, Ms. Gadost.”

Tim balked at the suggestion. “What the hell for? This is all just an act. You’re the one that wanted me to participate. This is me, participating.”

“T-Tim, please--”

“Oh, it’s ‘please’ now is it?”

“Goddammit, Tim, just look at him. Really _look.”_

“Fine! I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a couple of actors doing their jo-- oh! Oh, Christ.”

“ _See!?”_

“Fuck me.” Tim scrambled backwards until his back was resting against the desk.

“What is it?” Martin asked.

“Worms,” Jon breathed, “he’s coughing up worms.”

The buzzer sounded and the zombie’s ominous laughter filled the room.

“No. No, this is not happening. Not again. She’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Melanie asked.

Martin’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he whispered, “Jane Prentiss.”

“The flesh hive,” Jon said flatly. “Ms. Gadost, you really should step away from him.”

The chain had extended but the zombie had not taken advantage of its increased length. The actor was wracked by another coughing fit. He spat a clot of silver worms to the floor where they splashed in the black drool pooled beneath him. They wriggled there briefly before crawling back to him, burrowing into the exposed flesh of his arms. A shudder that might have been mistaken for revulsion if not for the noise of contentment he made passed over him.

“Oh, my god, Doug! What the hell!? We need to get you to a hospital!” Professor Gadost cried, all trace of her accent gone. Basira hooked her around the waist before she could make her way over to help. “Let _go!_ Can’t you see he’s actually sick? I promise you this isn’t part of the show.”

“We know, and that’s why you can’t go over there. It’s already too late.”

“Too late? But--”

Jon stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the budding flesh hive. “We need to leave. Now. Do you have a spare key to the door?”

“Yes, I-- It’s on my clipboard.”

While Basira attempted to calm professor Gadost, Melanie slipped the clipboard from her shaking hands. The zombie laughed as Melanie made her way to the door.

“Laugh all you want, we’re out of here.” The key slid into the lock but wouldn’t turn. Melanie cursed and tried again, taking the key out and reversing it to no avail.

The zombie pulled himself to the end of the chain, smiling as a worm pushed its way through the skin of his cheek. He burst into fresh laughter. “No escape.”

“Just pull it off of the wall. It’s mounted on Velcro. We’re not allowed to actually lock anyone in any of our escape rooms. Fire codes and all that.”

Melanie strained and grunted as she tugged on the block of wood the lock was affixed to. “No good, it’s been bolted down.”

“But that’s not--”

“Professor,” the zombie-- the flesh hive warned, “stop trying to get them out and let them play the game.”

“This isn’t funny, Doug. You’re sick, the clues are different, there’s some kind of new mechanism running the chain. What the hell is going on!?”

“Wait, the clues are different?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, I knew the new owners were planning on changing things up a bit, maybe customizing some of the puzzles for different groups if they paid extra, but this isn’t what I heard we were doing.”

“So you don’t actually know the answers?” Tim asked.

She shook her head. “I should be able to override the Frantic Falls so you don’t have to fight with a pub game for 20 min though.”

“But that’s in his range.” Martin warned.

“I’m not worried about getting tagged, Sharpie.”

“Professor!” the zombie shouted, “You’re not supposed to be talking during the show.”

“Seriously, Doug, drop the act. You have maggots crawling out of your face!” She shrugged out of Basira’s grip and stormed over past her co-worker to the cabinet.

Martin fidgeted with his hands nervously, “I wouldn’t go over there, it’s dangerous.” 

The professor had started manipulating a small, red tagged lock near the back of the apparatus when Doug let out a bellow and charged right for her. He pulled to a stop just behind her and ran a hand across the back of her leg leaving a streak of dark red along her skin. She kicked free of his grip and continued to work on the lock.

“If you keep trying to help them, there will be consequences.” His voice was low and broken from his previous coughing fits.

“You really should get away from him.” Basira warned.  
  
“Take it from me,” Tim added, “having worms inside you hurts a lot more than it looks.”

“I’ve almost got-- _"_

She screamed as Doug sank his teeth into the her calf. The professor collapsed forward into the cabinet, unable to support herself. She clutched her leg trying to stem the flow of blood, her face drawn and eyes starting to lose focus. Wet laughter filled the room as he came away with a mouth full of gore that dropped to the floor with a squelch. A single worm wriggled across the floor to bury itself in the torn flesh.

“D-Doug? You bit me.” She forced through gritted teeth. “Jesus Christ you actually bit me!”

He bared bloody teeth at her and continued to laugh. Disbelief mixed with anger and pain on her face as she threw her clipboard at the crawling figure on the ground. He nearly managed to dodge it, catching it on his shoulder rather than his face. She tried to stand only to fall to the floor with a strangled cry when she tried to put weight on the injured leg.

“That’s a lot of blood.” Martin whispered.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “Martin, distract him for me.”

_“What!?”_

“Distract him. Basira, give me a hand.”  
  
Jon put a hand on Tim’s arm. “I really don’t think--”

“Shove it, Jon. I’m not going to just let someone die, not when I can do something to stop it.”

“What if she’s infected?”

“Then we deal with that later. Martin, we’re waiting on you.” He shook off Jon’s hand and stepped away.

“R-Right. Um, Hello.” Martin gave the monster an awkward wave. “Doug, was it? Why don’t you come over here and we can have a nice chat? That’s it, no need to-- ah!” Martin gasped as the zombie lunged for him. “Yes, um, hello. You… you’re really fast. Especially considering your, um, condition.”

Tim and Basira edged past to reach the professor’s side. They began to staunch the flow of blood with the lab coat Martin found earlier. Basira shot a glance to Jon urging him to help Martin distract the zombie while they worked.

He nodded and stepped up beside Martin. “What is going on here?” The Archivist’s voice was heavy with compulsion.

Doug shuddered and coughed. “A game,” he spat. “If you win you are free to go. Though I don’t think you will.”

“How do we win?”

“Solve the riddles, find the key.”

“Where is he key?”

He pulled on a chain around his neck revealing a brass key from under his shirt. “No more questions from you, Archivist. Cheaters will be punished.” Jon stumbled back as several worms dropped from the actor and lunged toward him. They fell short and instead of pursuing him, returned to their home in the flesh hive. “You’ve been warned.”

“I don’t see how--”

“Jon,” Melanie interrupted. “Try and be less like your name badge and stop exacerbating things. I’m not in a hurry to be riddled with holes.”

“I-- fine.”

“Now where was that book you found?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The book? The one I was looking for?” She rolled her eyes at the blank look Jon was giving her. “We need to solve these puzzles right!?”

“Yes, I suppose we do.”

“So…?”

“Oh! On the shelf behind you.”

Melanie dug around but, like Basira, she didn’t notice the book flush against the wall. “I don’t see anything.”

“Behind the- Martin, if you’ll excuse me.” Jon stepped over to the shelf and pulled it from its place behind the other books. “Here. Happy?”

“No actually.”

“You know what I meant.”

Martin looked away from his nervous chatter with the zombie to fix them both with a look. “Can you two suck it up and get along long enough for us to get out of here?” He hissed.

Basira and Tim had managed to get professor Gadost to her feet, well foot, and were half carrying her past Martin when the buzzer sounded with twenty-five minutes left to go. They picked up the pace and narrowly avoided Doug’s swiping hand as he made use of the extra length in the chain.

“Soon,” he laughed, “eat you soon. Already had a taste of one of you.” He slowly ran his tongue across his bloody teeth.

More holes appeared in his skin as a fresh wave of worms revealed themselves. Most made their way back into him but a few remained on the surface. The light glinted off segmented, silver bodies half clinging to his rapidly decaying flesh.

Basira helped the professor to sit on the floor in the back corner of the room. “I don’t see any signs of infestation. I think you got away with only a bite.”

“Only a bite.” Gadost repeated sardonically, wincing as she adjusted her position.

“Remember the rules _professor_.” The zombie warned, idly watching a worm crawl across his hand. “You’re not supposed to be talking. Do you need another reminder?”

Her eyes went wide and she flitted her gaze among the people there before meeting Doug’s glare. She flinched as he flicked the worm in her direction and again as Tim’s foot crushed it underfoot before it could reach her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here.” Basira soothed. She had dealt with assault victims in her previous job and was putting that skill set to full use.

Meanwhile, Melanie had fitted the matching books together to reveal the clue they combined to make. “‘It’s a flower, not a star; what I have is a blank scar,’” she read. The blank has five spaces for letters. The first, third, and fifth have boxes around them and there’s a little doodle of some kind of number wheel.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tim asked.

“Do you think it goes with that lock marked ‘who have you forgotten’ over on the wall that Basira found?” Martin chimed in.

“I don’t know! I just found the damn things and put them together. There’s probably something else in here that will help answer it. We need to keep looking.”

“What we need is to keep an eye on that thing over there.” Tim insisted. “It doesn’t matter if _he’s_ chained, those worms can go anywhere.”

“I think so long as we ‘follow the rules’ he’ll keep them to himself.” Jon observed. “That’s not to say we should ignore him. Keep him entertained, Martin, but _be careful.”_

“I think he’s starting to get bored with me. Jon, do you want to take over for a bit? He seemed to like you.”

“If by ‘like’ you mean ‘keen to see me infested’. No, I think someone else would be more effective. Melanie?”

“Absolutely not!’

“We are supposed to be working as a team here.”

“And I am! Working, that is.”

“You’re staring at a clue that you have no way of answering. Put down the books and--”

“Fine!” Melanie let the books fall to the floor and stormed over. “But _you_ need to go looking for clues back there. You don’t get to send the rest of us into danger without taking any risks yourself.”

“Of course I will, but I didn’t want to say that out loud! He can _still hear us_. It doesn’t behoove us to announce everything we do. We have no idea how long he will actually play along with this scenario.”

“So we should be prepared for betrayal at any moment? _That’s_ not a familiar feeling at all.”

“Jon, Melanie, stop it.” Basira called from where she was checking the professor’s dressing. “You’re wasting time we don’t have.”

Melanie rolled her eyes and started to sway back and forth, swinging her hands and snapping. “Hey, zombie, I’m dancing. Just like you wanted. Whoo,” she deadpanned. The zombie followed her motion from side to side as if he was being hypnotized. “Yeah, I’m distracting the zombie with dancing just like from the tip we got.”

Jon nodded to Tim and the two of them took advantage of her distraction to scour the other half of the room. Tim checked on the zombie behind him every few seconds in contrast to Jon’s laser focus on his task. He spotted a battery in a pot of fake flowers and tucked it in his pocket.

Martin picked up the books Melanie dropped and set them on the desk. If they had to make a sprint to safety, he wanted to make sure they wouldn’t trip over anything before they got there. As he placed the books he had a closer look at the drawing, it looked like the dial on the combination lock securing the desk drawer.

“Hey guys? I think the books go with the lock on the desk. There are boxes around three of the blanks that probably correspond to the three numbers to a combination lock.”

Melanie looked over from her distraction dance. “Great, any idea what goes in that blank though?”

“No, but I’ll keep looking.”

“You do that and I guess I’ll-- keep doing… this.” She snapped her fingers and rolled her eyes for what felt like the twentieth time since they’d gotten to this hell hole.

In the back corner of the room, Basira tended to the professor’s leg. Red was starting to seep through the lab coat wrapped around it. She had relieved Martin of his belt and used to apply more pressure. The professor cried out as she cinched it closed.

“The bleeding seems to be slowing down, I don’t think we’ll need to resort to a tourniquet just yet but we need to get to a hospital soon. There’s not much else I can do for you here.” The professor nodded weakly to Basira before waving her away. “If you need anything, well I guess I won’t be far.” She gave here a shaky smile and a thumbs up and then rested her head against the wall.

“Boring,” the zombie called to Melanie. “Bored. Try harder.”

“What? Fine,” she fumed, picking up the pace of her dance.

“Do the sprinkler,” he commanded.

“I-- alright,” her voice dripped with false sweetness as she pumped her arms in an approximation of the sprinkler. “Happy?”

He smiled, spilling a few worms from his mouth. “Now the lawnmower.”

Melanie grumbled but complied, reaching down to pull an imaginary start cord.

He ran her through several more dances like that-- disco, running man, Charleston. All the while her face was set in a frown, daring anyone in the room to comment on her humiliation. A slow smile split his face as the buzzer sounded.

“Now do the worm.”

She was ready for him and dodged away from his lunge. “I think you’re doing the worm plenty enough for the both of us.” She looked over to where Jon and Tim were inspecting a dark hole set into the wall. “Find anything?”

“Maybe, but it’s too small to get my hand into.” 

“And I’m not as excited as Jon about sticking my hand into dark, spooky holes. So no, not really.” Tim glanced to his left. “We need to finish that pub game and get whatever is inside it but we’re still missing pieces.”

“Ball bearings right? I found a couple of those.” Jon pulled a pair of steel balls from his pocket and handed them to Tim.

“Watch my back.” Tim plucked them from Jon’s hand and pushed them through the hole at the top. With a practiced hand he manipulated the knob to drop them both into an unoccupied slot. One fell back into the return area. Tim grabbed it and tried again. The noise from the game as the bearings tumbled through the maze occasionally piqued the interest of the hive. Martin joined Melanie and their distractions seemed to be working. Still, Jon kept one hand on Tim’s arm ready to pull him into motion should their harasser turn on them.

Several tries and more than a few quiet curses later he landed the marble into one of the last two empty spaces. “Five down, one to go. Anymore balls for this damned thing?”

At his words, Doug spun around to face them. “Huuunnnnggrrryyy.” He-- It drew out the word. The worms had continued to make a mess of his face, transforming him from a who to a thing. Unfocused eyes drifted from Tim to Jon. “Eat.”

Jon yanked on Tim’s arm and the two of them took off at a sprint. Martin and Melanie both started jumping up and down, clapping, and yelling to pull it’s attention from the Archivist. The hive paused long enough for them to cross the room. Jon shoved Tim behind him into the corner and turned to stare down the man crawling after them.

“Aww, that’s ssssweet,” Doug slurred through a mouth full of squirming things. “You think you can protect them? We’ll devour you all, make our home in your flesh. Soon.” It glanced behind to the counting timer, fifteen minutes and twenty-four seconds remained. “Very soon.”

The buzzer went off and this time Doug took the time to crawl slowly to the end of his chain. He sat on his haunches and stared at Jon. Not wanting to get caught up in whatever was going on between the two of them, Tim slipped out from behind Jon and over to Basira.

“We need to get that last ball bearing if we’re going to get that damned thing open,” he whispered.

“I haven’t seen it.” She responded in an equally low voice.

Out of the corner of her eye, Basira spotted the professor staring at her and occasionally twitching her head to one side. She turned to fully face the injured woman who then stared intently just to the left of Basira, occasionally flicking her eyes to Basira for a moment only to resume looking to something else. She turned to follow professor Gadost’s gaze to see it land on one of the framed medical posters hanging on the wall. Basira looked back to see the professor enthusiastically nodding her head in encouragement.

Her crime scene evidence collection training kicked in as Basira scanned the poster. It seemed to be a standard issue diagram of the brain with certain areas picked out in different colors and labeled; nothing out of the ordinary there. It was bracketed in a plain, black frame with a few fingerprints scattered over the surface, the majority of which clustered at the lower left hand corner. Basira pushed on the corner to slide the poster aside. Arecess in the wall was hidden there with two silver marbles and a triple A battery sat in indents carved for them.

She passed the items to Tim who nodded his thanks and made his way back to the game. Martin, desperate to help, followed behind. Tim saw that Jon and the flesh hive were still having some kind of staring contest and if that kept the two of them out of his hair that was fine by him.

Melanie had gone back to staring in frustration at the riddle in the books. “Flower not a star,” she muttered under her breath.

“So,” Jon said at last.

 _“Sooooooo,”_ it mocked.

“I can’t ask questions since that would be ‘cheating’ or whatever.”

“You’re hungry too, I can smell it.” It took a deep, congested sounding  breath in through its nose. “You want a statement. _Itching_ for it you could even say.” The creature barked a laugh that startled Jon. “Too bad. You don’t eat until I do, Archivist. And once I eat… you won’t be hungry anymore.”

Jon continued to stare down the creature in front of him. He was angry that the feeling of being cornered-- of being trapped by something that wanted to do him harm-- was becoming all too familiar. Was this his life now? Bouncing from one threat to another, getting innocent people hurt or killed in the process? If they hadn’t come here Doug and Ms. Gadost would have likely been left alone. They were as much caught in this trap as those it was set for.

Martin’s exclamation of joy pulled Jon from his introspection. Everyone noticed him pull a handful of pictures from the now open slot below Frantic Falls. Everyone, including the flesh hive. Jon tried and failed to pull its attention back to himself.

Tim cuffed him on the back of the head. “Martin, you idiot, we were trying to be quiet. Remember?”

“Right,” Martin answered sheepishly, now noticing the danger they were in. “Um, what now?”

“He’s got a lot of chain, maybe we can wrap him around the desk. You go right and I’ll go left.”

“Got it.”  
  
“Ready?” Tim paused, “Now!”

They nearly collided as they both ended up going the same way. “You’re other right, Martin.”

“Oh, sorry! I’ll just-”

“Too late now, just _go!”_ Tim pushed Martin ahead of him.

Doug tore across the room at his heels. He reached the end of his chain and crashed to his chest, his momentum carrying most of him forward as his wrists were wrenched to a stop. The thing that was once Doug thrashed and growled sending worms flying.

“Tim, your leg!” Basira called and rushed over to knock three worms from where they landed on his jeans. They made to head back to the hive but didn’t get far as Tim frantically stomped on them. The cushioned floor made it difficult to crush them but Tim kept going long after they were nothing but smears on the foam.

“Tim! It’s alright, Tim. You got them.” Martin soothed, trying to place his hands on the other man’s shoulders.

“Get your hands off me! It’s _not_ alright! I’ve had those fucking things _squirming_ into me once already. Not again, never again.”

“We’ll get out of here."

“That’s not the _point_ , Martin! Even if we do avoid death or _infestation_ , eventually something will get us. Transform us into some twisted mockery that pretends to be us. Maybe even thinks it _is_ us, but it’s not. We’ll be gone. Maybe we already are.” He directed the last of his tirade to Jon who stood watching his breakdown in silent judgment from across the room.

“Join us,” the hive rasped as the buzzer sounded.

“Fuck off!” The energy drained from Tim and he slumped against a wall. “Everyone just fuck right off.”

Basira took the initiative to distract the hive from the rest of the group. It seemed to have gotten bored with Melanie, Tim needed a bit of space at the moment, and Jon… Jon was staring at the flesh hive menacing them from the floor. Not at, past. All while subconsciously running his hands across his leg in the place Martin’s corkscrew had removed a worm over a year ago.

She led the crawling hive around the desk in the center of the room, wrapping his chain around it. The hive wasn’t interested in dancing anymore so she began to sing to keep its attention. She started off with vague humming but soon was singing at full volume.

“Wow, Basira, you have a great voice.” Martin complimented.

“Yeah, holy shit, I had no idea” Melanie agreed.

She kept up the tune of the song but switched in her own instructions in place of the lyrics. “We’re running out of time and we still have things to solve. Jon, help Melanie with the books. Martin, you and Tim check the pictures. Hurry, I don’t know how long this will work.”

The sound of his name spurred Jon to action and he crossed over to have a look at the books. The Archivist’s eyes squinted in concentration as his lips moved around the words written there. He ran a hand along his jaw, fingers brushing along his neck. “Scar…”

Martin cautiously approached Tim holding the pictures out in front of him. “I had a quick look but it just looks like a bunch of people at a pub or some kind of holiday party.”

Tim reluctantly took the offered photos. A few odd Polaroids were sticking out at angles from the rest of the stack. He flipped through them with a sigh pausing midway through. “Is that? Is that Diana?

“Oh my god, it is! And that’s Rosie. This must be from last year’s Christmas party.”

“How the fuck did they get these?” Tim shot an accusatory glare at the injured professor in the corner who raised her hands in a helpless shrug.

“If they were locked away behind something they must be important.” Martin insisted.

“Or they’re just here to mess with us. As if this entire thing isn’t some big set up for psychological torture. Elias is probably watching and laughing right now.” He stuck a defiant middle finger into the air.

“It seems a bit… much? Don’t you think?” Martin ventured.

“It is a bit cartoony, mustache twirling villain but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“If that’s the case we can take turns bashing him over the head with oversized mallets and then drop a piano on him. But first we have to get out of here, alright?”

“Alright.” Tim sighed.

“Good! Now let’s see if we can’t figure out what these pictures are trying to tell us.”

The way Jon was zoning out and rubbing his neck was starting to worry Melanie. He eventually snapped out of it with a shake of his head. “No, that can’t be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What is it?”

More to himself than to her, “it fits though.”

“ _What_ fits?” This was getting ridiculous, if it went on for much longer she seriously might end up slapping him.  

“Daisy.”

“What about her?”

“The answer to the riddle, it’s daisy.”

“It’s a flower, not a star; What I have is a daisy scar? How does that make any sense at all?”

“I don’t know but that’s the answer, I’m sure of it. Daisy is a nickname after all.”

“Fine, we don’t have any other leads so ‘Daisy’ it is. Now what do we do with that?”

Still singing, Basira chimed in, “Martin said the boxes correspond to the combination lock.”

“D, I, and Y are letters though.” Jon said. “DIY? Do it yourself?”

“Translate them to their place in the alphabet. A equals one, B two, that kind of thing.

“Oh, right, of course.”

“You do that, I’m going to go help Tim and Martin with those pictures.” Melanie left Jon with the lock to join the other assistants. “Anything?”

“Just a creeping sense of unease borne of being watched by something you can’t see and don’t understand.” Tim said, handing her the pictures.

“So a Tuesday then?”

“More of a Wednesday afternoon really. That bit after lunch when you’re tired and just can’t be bothered.”

Melanie smiled and hummed a noise of agreement as she thumbed through the images. She stopped and her face fell as she reached one of the Polaroids in the stack.

“What? Did you find something?” Martin asked.

“I’m not… sure? This woman looks familiar but I can’t quite place her.” She flipped the picture around for them to see. Three women stood holding wine glasses and half finished canvas paintings.

“Never seen any of them in my life. Do you recognize anyone, Tim?”

“The one in the center, no, but the ones on either side work in Artefact Storage, don’t remember their names. Or they did, a while back. High turnover rate and all.”

Melanie looked again and shook her head. “That isn’t it. It’s the one in the center. I _know_ I know her. It’s on the tip of my brain.”

The timer ticked down to five minutes left as the sharp sound of the buzzer filled the room clashing with Basira’s voice.

“Got it!” Jon called as he removed the lock from the shackle holding the drawer shut.

“What is in there?” Martin asked.

“A torch.” He clicked the button on the back a few times. “A broken torch.”

“Check the batteries,” Basira sang, “I found one earlier.” She produced a triple A battery and tossed it across the room. Doug’s eyes followed its arc and took off chasing it prompting a shout of warning from Basira.

Jon fumbled and dropped the battery and was forced to leave it behind as the hive barreled toward him. “Hold still, Archivist. Hold still and let us have a taste.”

He rounded the desk as the hive pursued him. “I really rather not if it’s all the same to you.”

Basira swooped in as Doug crawled past the fallen battery to retrieve it. “Jon--”

“Walking Disaster,” the hive corrected.

“Give me the torch, my hands are steadier.” Jon passed it over the desk to Basira. She unscrewed the cap revealing an insert with places for three batteries. “It still needs more batteries though.”

“I found a couple earlier.” Jon began patting himself down eventually finding one in each trouser pocket.

Basira assembled the device. Clicking the button, she was rewarded with a beam of light. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

The professor waved to the assistants to get their attention. She mimed clicking on the torch and scanning the room, pretending to shield her eyes from the sun and squinting in concentration.

“Look at something with the flashlight, we got that part.” Tim sighed. “But where?”

She formed a large circle with her hands and made a show of peering through it.

“In something? We only have three minutes left, just tell us!”

Her eyes went wide as the hive let out a gurgle and yanked on its chains. She glanced to her her leg and shook her head. Her hands formed the circle again and she scanned the room, pausing ever so slightly in one location. Jon noticed her line of sight lingering on the hole he and Tim had found earlier and motioned to Tim.

“Oh, Christ,” Tim sighed. “Martin, go help Walking Disaster over there distract the ‘zombie’. Basira meet me over there.”

“I’ll keep at it with the pictures,” Melanie volunteered. “I almost have something here.”

“There’s something written in here,” Tim called out. “‘A picture paints a thousand words but you only need one to escape’. Melanie, doesn’t the picture you’re looking at have women holding paintings?”

“Oh my god.” Melanie went very still. “I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

“What is it?” Martin asked from beside Jon.

“It’s Sasha in the picture with the paintings. The real Sasha, from before...”

“‘Only need one to escape’.” Basira repeated. “The lock on that box is labeled ‘who have you forgotten’.”

“Sasha--” Her voice caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she should cry or scream. She hesitated for a moment, caught between the two before letting out a frustrated scream.

The zombie immediately lost interest with Jon and Martin to head straight for Melanie. She stood there, unmoving, her voice too loud in her ears to hear and eyes too blurry with tears to see the approaching threat. Jon couldn’t seem to move as he watched it get closer. He opened his mouth to warn her but no sound came out.

It was almost to her, its arm reached out to grab her ankle when it suddenly pulled up short. The sound of clinking metal pulled Jon’s attention behind him where he saw Martin holding the chain and pulling backwards. Tim sprinted past him to get to Melanie as Basira headed toward the lock.

“NO!! Cheater!” the hive bellowed, pulling on the chains. Dozens of worms rose to the surface and spilled to the floor. Instead of working their way back into Doug like before, they spread out and began crawling after the people in the room.

“Basira, hurry.” Jon pleaded.

Tim grabbed Melanie around the waist and pulled her away from the approaching tide of silver worms. The action startled her back to herself and she let out a different scream, one of revulsion as they fled the writhing parasites.

The lock snapped open and Basira threw open the door. “What are we supposed to do with a fire extinguisher?” she yelled over the chaos.

“Give it here!” Martin dropped the chain in favor of the red CO2 canister. He pulled the pin and fired a short burst at the worms on the floor. They shriveled and died, clearing a path to the hive. “Hey, Doug! Over here!”

The hive screamed as the gas enveloped it. Jon clapped his hands to his ears and dropped to his knees. The sound was an icepick in his brain, sharp and cold. Suddenly he was back in the Archives as worms forced their way into him. Pain and fear and desperation flooded him in waves, pouring out of his mouth as his voice joined the dying worms'.

The Archivist was dimly aware of Tim having a similar reaction. He saw Melanie support the other man as black spots danced at the edges of his vision. Every scar on his body was a white hot point of pain. It felt as if the worms never left, they had burrowed into him, waiting for this moment to all burst forth as one.

Then it was over. The sudden relief nearly painful in itself. The Archivist collapsed fully to the floor, glad that it was cushioned, and lay there. He felt Basira check his pulse and waved her away, mumbling something about being fine.

“You’re not fine, Jon. You had some kind of seizure. Tim too.”

“Is it dead?”

“It’s dead. Martin blasted it and it sort of collapsed? He’s checking things over for worms now. There was a hive or something in the cabinet where he came out of.” Jon tried and failed to sit up. “That’s gone too.”

“Good.”

“The ECDC is going to have a fit over this.”

The timer ticked down to flash zero and the buzzer sounded for the final time.

“Did we win?” Martin asked, still clinging desperately to the extinguisher.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Basira had tracked down the contact info for the ECDC a van had already pulled up to the door. Apparently an anonymous tip had alerted them of a ‘possible colony of parasitic worms’ at the site. None of the hazmat suited workers uttered the name Jane Prentiss but Jon recognized more than one of them from the team that handled the aftermath of her attack on the Institute.

Quarantine wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences, not something Jon would have like to experience more than once in a lifetime, but it was better than the alternative. Tim grumbled the whole time but learned his lesson and no jokes about itching were forthcoming. The two of them were held for longer than the others as their previous scars made it more difficult to verify lack of entry points than unmarked flesh.

“The gift that keeps on giving,” Tim quipped.

Jon and Tim were just about finished when Basira expressed concern over possible brain injury caused by or contributing to their seizures. Neither of them had wanted to stay longer than necessary and left out any mention of their reaction to the death of the hive. Jon glared daggers at her as they loaded the two of them into an ambulance for neurological testing and overnight observation.

The rest of the archival assistants were shooed away while Doug’s remains were dealt with. Melanie had to half drag Martin from the scene, adamant as he was that he actually see it this time and muttering about a corkscrew. She suspected he’d be sleeping with a fire extinguisher for at least a month.

They were heading their separate ways home when Basira caught up with Melanie. “Here.” She pushed the paper backed photo of Sasha grinning over her painting into Melanie’s hand.

Melanie looked down at the picture with a pained smile. “I thought they were taking everything out of there to be burned.”

“Working with sectioned officers as long as I have, you learn a thing or two about slipping things out of a crime scene. It seemed like the kind of thing we should keep.”

“Thank you.” She wiped a tear from her face and leaned into the other woman’s offered hug.

 

* * *

 

 

Elias was finishing up some paperwork when Jon’s knock came at his office door. “Ah, if it isn’t the walking disaster himself! 

“Very funny, Elias. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Have a seat. I wanted to go over your group’s performance with you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yesterday’s team building exercise, surely you haven’t forgotten.”

Jon sputtered at the audacity of this man to sit behind his desk and pick apart an incident where his staff could have died. “A situation _you clearly_ engineered. What the hell are you playin _\--_ ”

“Tim is clearly dead inside.”

“I really don’t think that’s a fair assessment of-- Oh.” Jon cut himself off when he saw Elias referencing a sealed bag holding a paper stained with dried blood and black splotches. “You mean the name he went by.”

Elias offered a thin smile. “Looking at these notes, I’m not seeing anything that surprises me. He has a clear attitude problem, one shared with varying degrees amongst your staff.” He shook his head with disappointment. “At least he’s occasionally capable of doing what he’s told. Even if he only goes along purely out of spite.”

“Why are you bothering with that?” Jon gestured to the note in his hand. “Weren’t you watching the entire thing play out?”

“That had been my intention though I encountered… interference.”

“I don’t appreciate you purposely sending us into dangerous situations, Elias.”

“I sent you for a team building exercise, which clearly you needed. It seems you can only work together when there is an immediate threat of danger. Not before. And not after.”

“That does not excuse--”

“The flesh hive was a surprise to me as well,” he admitted.

Jon’s anger came up short. “You’re telling me that you didn’t set that all up? The riddle about Daisy’s scar? The goddamned picture of Sasha?”

“I did have the scenario personalized, a sort of stress test if you will, to make it more real. Something must have found out you would be there and took advantage. When I could see I caught a mention of a recent change in ownership. Have you looked into that?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to give them a bit of time before taking official statements.” Jon scrubbed his face with his hand for a moment before continuing. “Amhurst. It has to be. Maybe not directly but I’m sure it ties back to him.”  

Elias steepled his fingers on his desk and leaned forward with interest. “You’re sure? What brings you to that conclusion?”

Jon leaned back in his chair, giving Elias an incredulous glare. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

“I didn’t say that. I asked for your thought process on the matter. Was there a process or did you simply pluck the theory from the air?” He regarded the Archivist with an anticipation that bordered close to hunger.

“I- Well Jane Prentiss is dead.” Jon ventured, more than a little off put by Elias’s intensity.

“Very much so.”

“And the only other person-- other thing that might have access to what infested her is Amhurst. It makes sense really.”

“Quite.” Elias straightened in his seat with an air of faint disappointment. He folded his hands on his desk and glanced down at his notes. “Back on task, Tim refuses to work without proper motivation and Melanie is much the same. Something we need to work on if they are to continue to be assets for the Institute.”

“You make that sound like a threat.” Jon interjected.

“It doesn’t have to be, but take it as you will. Just know that I will take steps to deal with the problem if you won’t.”

Jon shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“Martin has a somewhat mitigating influence on them.” Elias continued, “or at least he tries to. An admirable trait which you should take advantage of. He is a bit reckless though, putting himself in danger to do what he thinks is helpful. Whether or not the risk is worth the reward.”

“Something _you_ seem to have no qualms taking advantage of.” Jon muttered.

“I use what is available to me, something I suggest you learn to do as well.”

“I won’t sacrifice my assistants, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Ignoring Jon’s retort, Elias moved down his list. “Basira behaved admirably. She fits in rather well, wouldn’t you say? We are lucky to have her working for us.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Jon scoffed, clearly bitter on her behalf.

“Regardless, she is highly observant of her surroundings and other’s behavior, calm under pressure, and capable of directing others while still performing an important task herself. An all around excellent addition to the Archives.

“And then there is you, Jon, the walking disaster.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Jon bristled. “I see the pieces not the whole, I’m a terrible manager who is easily drawn into fights, I antagonize things that could kill us all. I’ve heard it before.” He sighed and dropped into a slouch. “Are we done?”

“Not quite.” Elias set the paper down to look more directly at Jon. “At least you are self aware of these issues, that is a start.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You would all be so much more efficient if everyone didn’t spend their energy on constant, petty bickering.”

“I don’t think that is likely to change anytime soon.” Jon said with a shake of his head.

“However when it comes down to it, you _can_ get your team to work together, if only in crisis situations. That is better than nothing, especially with the future so uncertain.”

“The Unknowing, you keep reminding me.”

“They may not like each other, or you, but now they know they can depend on one another if their lives depend on it.” Elias handed Jon the stain and scribble covered paper. “Please make sure you all learn from your failure. I would hate for your experience to have been for naught.”

Jon straightened in his chair. “I’m sorry, what do you mean, failure?”

“Precisely that, you failed.”

“We killed a flesh hive and no one was infected. How is that failing?”

“You were still in the room when the time had elapsed. You did not escape in time, therefore you failed the scenario.”

Jon leveled a finger at Elias. “Each person in that room contributed in meaningful ways. Be it finding a piece of important information, assembling those pieces, or saving one another from a legitimate threat on their life.”

“That is true,” Elias conceded. “But you could have done all of those things and still completed the task on time if you hadn’t spent so much of it at each other’s throats.”

Jon took a deep breath and made a visible effort to calm himself before replying. “Does this mean you will be sending us out again for more _team building_ in the future? Do we need to start doing trust falls on Thursday afternoons now?”

Elias’s eyes crinkled in a tight lipped smile. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. Unless you disagree?”

“No!” Jon cleared his throat. “I mean, no. I think another outing would uh… dilute the experience. Diminishing returns, that kind of thing.”

Elias held Jon’s gaze just long enough for the silence to be awkward. “I feel much the same.”

“So, um, what happens now? We need to do something about that place. Especially, if it is being run by Amhurst or something similar.”

“We are observers, Jon. Dealing with these things directly is not what we do. Finish your research and file it in the Archives with the other statements.”  

“You sent us in there specifically to deal with it directly!”

“I sent you in there to deal with a variety of issues with your staff. The business with the Filth--”

“Wasn’t part of your plan. You mentioned that. But it was there because of _us_ so _we_ should deal with it before someone else dies.” Jon insisted.

“The ECDC is handling the facility, they have dealt with worse. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were some kind of electrical malfunction in the near future that leaves the building a pile of ash.”

“I suppose that’s something.” Jon allowed.  

“As for Amhurst,” Elias picked up his pen and reached for a file. “Have your team look into the owners. If they find something useful I will be sure to pass it along to the right people.”

“Fine, are we done here?”

“Yes, Jon. That will be all.” Elias’s pen was gliding over his paperwork before the Archivist finished standing. He called out just before Jon’s hand brushed the doorknob. “That is, unless you’d like to do a few trust falls before you go.”

Jon shut the door behind him with a little more force than was necessary.  



End file.
